No Man Is an Island

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No man is an island,
entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less,
as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were;
any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind,
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee.

Mediation XVII – John Donne

-

July 20, 2872; Old Sheboygan, Earth

Azra and Shiro stood at the shore, watching the sun rise. The ragged clouds above were glorious shades of molten orange and coral to contrast with the pale sky. The wind was mostly calm. The waves were gentle and lulling. The two drank in the beauty and peace of the morning, and talked.

"What did you see?"

Azra threw her arm and flicked her wrist. The stone went skittering across the waves. "Everything dead. The sun gone. Then Twilight Gap, but worse."

Shiro skipped his own stone across the water. It bounced five times before sinking below the surface. "So. How d'you feel now that you've confronted the inherent mortality of all things?"

"Strangely okay." Azra sized up the rock in her hand. Not flat enough. Spark produced a better one from somewhere. "Like, the abyss is there, but I don't have to stare into it."

Shiro hummed in agreement and let silence settle between them. Azra threw her stone. four skips.

"Hey Shiro."

"Yeah?" His stone went three skips before hitting a swell and faltering. He cursed.

"Why don't you ever like... talk? About things?"

Shiro crouched to gather more rocks, keeping his voice light. "What do you mean?"

"I can tell something's bothering you."

Shiro's next stone sunk below the waves without a single bounce. Azra kept her eyes on the horizon and waited, counting seconds in her head. One, two, three, four...

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Shiro finally said.

Azra tossed her rock in the air a few times, feeling its weight. "It matters to you, doesn't it?"

"No-one will remember this a hundred years from now. It's a temporary problem. Not worth aching over. I can deal."

Azra threw her stone with feeling. It bounced seven times. "Bullshit."

"What?"

"Just 'cause something ends, doesn't mean it wasn't worth anything. Everything ends." She studied the Bladedancer beside her, the set of his shoulders, his feet in the sand. "...And I don't like to see you suffer in silence. If it's a privacy thing, I get it, but... talking helps. You'd do it for me."

Shiro stood stock-still for a moment, the lights in his eyes dim. Then he sighed, turned, and settled himself on a washed-up log. Azra dusted the wet sand from her fingers and followed suit.

The Exo clasped his hands in front of him, like he was about to give some formal speech. His chest swelled with an inhale, held for a moment... then the air escaped all at once, and he slouched, and spoke.

-

TYPE: GUARDIAN CUSTOMS PROJECT
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]; One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: Dark Ages; Jax, Azra; Lee-4; Shinobu, Himura; Shiro-4, Six Coyotes; Vai, Therin
CUSTOMS ASSOCIATIONS: Death, Final; Funeral; Arcstriders
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/TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../

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